


canned beans

by viscrael



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Ambiguous Relationships, M/M, Short, by that i mean i just dont make it clear in the fic if theyre dating or not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 20:26:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12614776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: “Suga?” Daichi prompted gently. He took the can from Suga’s hands and set it on the counter again. His fingers were warm when they brushed against Suga’s, warm and alive andokay.--a short blip of a zombie apocalypse au





	canned beans

**Author's Note:**

> this is small! and nonsensical. but im trying to write 1k a day as a sort of substitute nanowrimo since i dont have time to plan a completely new n0v3l (also bc im scared of commitment) so i just spit this out real quick. its been a while since ive written daisuga and this isnt even relationship-centered so i apologize for that :^0
> 
> tsukuru is just a vague oc i pulled right outta my ass

Sugawara whipped around, aiming his gun at the doorway. “Who’s there?!”

“It’s just me,” came a voice from the darkness, but Suga still didn’t lower his gun as Daichi stepped through the threshold, a hand out in front of him to prove he meant no harm, the other holding a duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

Suga felt himself beginning to relax just at the familiar face, but he caught himself before he let his guard down. Daichi didn’t _look_ any different than he’d left, and he didn’t seem off, but they could never be too sure. He said, “And?”

“Your most embarrassing moment was that time you threw up all over the substitute in our first year,” Daichi answered without pause.

Suga let out a breath and finally lowered his arms. “I hate that you made that the password.”

“Sorry.” Daichi gave a half-grin, not looking at all sorry, and slung the duffle bag off his back and onto the kitchen table. The _thud_ it made when connecting with the table’s surface echoed through the mostly-empty house. Suga put the safety back on his gun and set it on the table next to the bag as he came to stand next to Daichi. He didn’t like holding it, despite knowing logically it would be stupid to go without one; he just tended to keep the weapon as safe and far away from him or Daichi as they could afford. Unfortunately, what they could afford was very little.

“Where’d you get all this?” Suga asked, watching as Daichi unzipped the duffle bag and began pulling out its contents: canned beans and fruits, a jar of peanut butter past its expiration date by a year, a tube of toothpaste, and a surprisingly large amount of gauze and toilet paper. He set them all out on the table in front of them, stacking them on one another absentmindedly.

“Tsukuru was infected,” he said.

“ _What?”_

“It must have been a few days since he got it, I don’t know.” The contents seemed never ending, pulling out can after can. “I just know that when I got there, he was…”

Daichi paused in his unloading. It wasn’t the first time Sugawara had seen him affected by this, but it was the first time he had looked so…confused. Most of the time, the reaction was righteous anger and a whole lot of grief. But right now, he just seemed pensive.

Suga finished unpacking the bag for Daichi quietly, and by the time Daichi had realized he’d disappeared into himself again, the chore was finished. Suga grabbed an armful of the canned foods and set them on the counter to store in the cabinets.

“So you got these from his house?” Suga asked.

“Yeah. He was really holding out on us, it seems.”

“I guess so.” One of the cans slipped from his hands. He jumped to avoid it, but the edge still slammed into his foot. “Shit!”

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just—“ It was mortifying to admit, but he realized, reaching down to pick the can off the floor, that tears were forming in the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t known Tsukuru very well. The two were never in any classes together so they had only talked once, maybe twice before the outbreak happened, and even afterwards, it was mostly Daichi who kept in contact with Tsukuru, leaving the house to find rations and keep their alliance with Tsukuru as well as a few other ex-students alive while Sugawara stayed back. It made sense for the two of them to only leave in shifts—if they were both gone, who would keep someone from breaking in and stealing all their belongings?—but now, Suga found he regretted it.

Maybe if they’d only checked on Tsukuru more often they would have…

“Suga?” Daichi prompted gently. He took the can from Suga’s hands and set it on the counter again. His fingers were warm when they brushed against Suga’s, warm and alive and _okay._

“How bad off was he when you got there?” Suga’s voice was quiet. He couldn’t look at Daichi’s face when he asked it, and instead stared at a space a little to the left, the barren, molding wall behind Daichi that created the backdrop for most of their life here, just trying to survive.

“Almost completely gone,” Daichi said. “Suga, there wasn’t…”

“Anything we could do, I know,” Suga finished for him.

“But?”

“But I still feel…like we abandoned him somehow. Like we should have known when he was getting sick, or we should have kept him from getting infected in the first place.”

“We can’t control the virus, Suga.” Daichi laid a hand on his forearm, the touch surprisingly tender, surprisingly comforting. “You understand that, don’t you? _None_ of this was in any way our fault. We weren’t responsible for everything Tsukuru did, and he didn’t want us to be. If he exposed himself, he did it knowing the risks he was taking, and it just happens that he paid the price the worst way someone can.”

“Did you kill him?”

Daichi faltered. It was the first time Suga looked up during the whole conversation, and when he made eye contact, he found fear on Daichi’s face, the kind of unabashed fear that comes from being taken off guard, being caught in a crime. The fear melted to guilt. He was the first to look away this time.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he said, so quiet it was almost a whisper. The house was so empty and echoed so badly, anything over a whisper often felt like yelling. Suga couldn’t blame him for lowering his voice.

“He attacked you?”

“Almost bit me, too.”

A gut panic seized Suga, freezing his blood. “You didn’t—“

“I’m fine. He didn’t have time to bite me before I shot him.”

“You’re positive?”

“One hundred percent.”

He released a heavy breath, relieved, and all his energy seemed to leave him then. Suga slumped over Daichi, pulling him into a kind of willowing hug, and let the tears at the corners of his eyes fall finally. It was only a few, but they felt like so many in comparison to everything else. He hadn’t cried but once or twice since the epidemic spread, but today, he was just so _tired_. This life style was wearing him thin—the paranoia, the scavenging, the kill-or-be-killed attitude he was force to adopt. He just wanted to be back in high school again, playing volleyball and half-flirting with Daichi where his greatest worries were where he wanted to go to university.

This wasn’t the life he wanted. But that felt stupid to think. This wasn’t the life _anyone_ wanted.

“I want this to be over,” Suga said to Daichi’s shoulder.

Daichi’s arms came around him to return the hug. He was so warm. “Me too.”


End file.
